into the crisp fall morning.
Ella knew nothing about his life. And he’d be damned if he’d tell her.
***
Ella grabbed a paper napkin from the table, balled it up and threw it at the door.
He was singularly the most obstinate, exasperating man on the planet.
He knew nothing about what it had taken for her to put herself through college, the student loans or the jobs she’d had to take to make ends meet in the beginning. She’d worked hard. And she had a good job. She had great friends. She had accomplished that. On her own.
She went to the fridge looking for something that might resemble fruit or yogurt. There was butter and milk, a few condiments and a package of sliced meat. That was it. She sighed, closed the door and rested her forehead on it. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to fight her every step of the way? She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his hands on her breasts last night and how close she’d come to asking him to share the bed. They had all this garbage between them and yet one touch had almost rendered it all irrelevant.
But being with him would have set up another long list of regrets. Wanting him sure didn’t change who she was or who he was. Or who she wanted to be when it was all over.
She wandered to the living room area and stared at the coffee table.
On it was an old electric typewriter, the cord folded neatly with a rubber band holding it together. She went over and ran her fingers along the cold gray frame. Thought of the black keys with white letters, how the indentations in each key felt under the fingers. She sat before it and rested her fingers on home row. Different than any computer keyboard. He’d kept it all this time. It was a side of Devin very different from the side that had yelled at her this morning.
She ran her nail along the space bar, sighing. He’d bought it out of his savings when they were in twelfth grade and had given it to her for Christmas so she could start her first novel. When she’d gone to college, she’d said she’d come back to get it at Thanksgiving. She remembered the morning she drove away from him, her new husband, and how she’d cried all the way up the interstate. They’d agreed on school. And they’d promised that once it was over, they’d really start the life they’d promised in front of the judge at the courthouse. She was going to be a writer. He was going to work for his dad until he could start up his own contracting company. He’d taken part of each paycheck and played the market—she remembered him saying he’d always been good at math and how proud he’d been when he’d made his first money in the market when other boys in school had been playing football and hanging out at the corner store.
The backs of her eyes stung as she realized she’d been the one to throw their perfect life away. She’d been the one who’d broken promises. She’d gone away but she hadn’t come back like they’d agreed. And this morning had shown her how much he hated her for that.
She wiped beneath her eyes. Today she’d run a few errands. And tonight she’d make him see why finalizing the divorce was the best thing for everyone.
Chapter Four
The simple house was built nearly square, set on an average street that was slipping towards shabby. The grass in the surrounding front yards was brown, and the flower pots sitting on the steps of a handful of houses were brittle and dried. Ella pulled into the gravel drive, noticed that the paint was cracked and peeling around the windows but the front porch was a new, blinding white. Compared to several of the properties nearby, Betty Tucker’s was surprisingly well-kept.
Especially for a woman who had recently had a mastectomy and was looking down the barrel of chemotherapy.
When Ella knocked on the door, she didn’t know what to expect. That made her nervous, always had. She’d grown up only a few streets away, in a house even smaller than this one. Two tiny
Ella knew nothing about his life. And he’d be damned if he’d tell her.
***
Ella grabbed a paper napkin from the table, balled it up and threw it at the door.
He was singularly the most obstinate, exasperating man on the planet.
He knew nothing about what it had taken for her to put herself through college, the student loans or the jobs she’d had to take to make ends meet in the beginning. She’d worked hard. And she had a good job. She had great friends. She had accomplished that. On her own.
She went to the fridge looking for something that might resemble fruit or yogurt. There was butter and milk, a few condiments and a package of sliced meat. That was it. She sighed, closed the door and rested her forehead on it. Why couldn’t this be easy? Why did he have to fight her every step of the way? She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of his hands on her breasts last night and how close she’d come to asking him to share the bed. They had all this garbage between them and yet one touch had almost rendered it all irrelevant.
But being with him would have set up another long list of regrets. Wanting him sure didn’t change who she was or who he was. Or who she wanted to be when it was all over.
She wandered to the living room area and stared at the coffee table.
On it was an old electric typewriter, the cord folded neatly with a rubber band holding it together. She went over and ran her fingers along the cold gray frame. Thought of the black keys with white letters, how the indentations in each key felt under the fingers. She sat before it and rested her fingers on home row. Different than any computer keyboard. He’d kept it all this time. It was a side of Devin very different from the side that had yelled at her this morning.
She ran her nail along the space bar, sighing. He’d bought it out of his savings when they were in twelfth grade and had given it to her for Christmas so she could start her first novel. When she’d gone to college, she’d said she’d come back to get it at Thanksgiving. She remembered the morning she drove away from him, her new husband, and how she’d cried all the way up the interstate. They’d agreed on school. And they’d promised that once it was over, they’d really start the life they’d promised in front of the judge at the courthouse. She was going to be a writer. He was going to work for his dad until he could start up his own contracting company. He’d taken part of each paycheck and played the market—she remembered him saying he’d always been good at math and how proud he’d been when he’d made his first money in the market when other boys in school had been playing football and hanging out at the corner store.
The backs of her eyes stung as she realized she’d been the one to throw their perfect life away. She’d been the one who’d broken promises. She’d gone away but she hadn’t come back like they’d agreed. And this morning had shown her how much he hated her for that.
She wiped beneath her eyes. Today she’d run a few errands. And tonight she’d make him see why finalizing the divorce was the best thing for everyone.
Chapter Four
The simple house was built nearly square, set on an average street that was slipping towards shabby. The grass in the surrounding front yards was brown, and the flower pots sitting on the steps of a handful of houses were brittle and dried. Ella pulled into the gravel drive, noticed that the paint was cracked and peeling around the windows but the front porch was a new, blinding white. Compared to several of the properties nearby, Betty Tucker’s was surprisingly well-kept.
Especially for a woman who had recently had a mastectomy and was looking down the barrel of chemotherapy.
When Ella knocked on the door, she didn’t know what to expect. That made her nervous, always had. She’d grown up only a few streets away, in a house even smaller than this one. Two tiny
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